Cara Forbes
A twisted love took a soul bursting at the seams with liveliness
And stitched it up with threads of its own self-hatred,
Condemning this spirit, full of the light of a thousand stars,
To spend her life in a cage of her own timidity and doubt.
Here she grew a skin of barbed wire, mutilating her naked body,
Blanketing delicate curves in juxtaposing harshness,
Beautiful and treacherous.
I can not leave this place.
How could I when tumbling within the patterns of my own soul is where I find the most comfort,
Alone with the only one whose love I will ever accept?
I self-soothe with a dexterity achieved through a lifetime of practice,
A childhood spent cradling my own heart in calloused hands,
The ensemble of my head well-versed in a chorus of my own suffering.
Though present me with your pain and I lose coherence, I stumble and fall
Back into the familiarity of my own safe embrace.
My empathy extends to the ends of the universe,
But the universe is trapped within the confines of my own body,
Imprisoned alongside me in this wretched chain-linked prison.
I’ve made a home here, I nurture my universe within,
Still it is not enough.
I turn a blind eye to its desperate attempts to free itself from my body.
I am freed from within but trapped from without:
The paradox of my life.
When who I know myself to be lies just beyond the reach of my own self-expression,
I drown myself in fantasies of far off adventures and fairytale lands.
I run, hands outstretched, grasping for the green light, the promise of happiness lying just ahead.
Just ahead, just ahead, just ahead,
But forever out of reach.
I escape through daydreams of places,
While others escape through daydreams of me—
The tragic song and dance of lives discontented.
I relish in the moment they get too close, slicing open,
Skin on mutilated skin.
Let her stitch you up with threads of her own self-hatred.